Neil Armstrong bounced down the ladder. One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind. That night, millions of people around the world looked skyward and saw the same floating, silvery orb that frightened or perplexed our ancestors from the beginning of time. Except now, one of us was up there. The first question of the infinite galaxy was answered. And there was no boundary to what other answers we could find.

We actually thought like this in 1969. I was 12, and the Apollo 11 mission brought home the whole wide universe of questions. Contemplation of time, space, reason for existence, God in heaven. You'd look up there, and think. To see how far the barometer of American cultural priorities has fallen consider this: There is much more curiosity and fascination over the death of a guy whose signature dance step was the "Moonwalk" than over the dwindling handful of men who actually walked on the moon. A trip through cable offerings or past the newsstand proves that.

Putting a man on the moon was the single greatest technological achievement of mankind. Even today, 40 years later, when you look up at the moon and think of Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin, it still seems impossible. Yet, the last time the anniversary rolled around, much more attention was paid to Woodstock (August 1969) and even the New York gay uprising called Stonewall (June 1969). These are called cultural milestones, much in the way Michael Jackson is called an "icon."

But history hasn't been kind to the lunar landings. It was called Cold War muscle flexing. It was expensive. Some say wasteful.

But there is no denying it was good for this country's morale. And it made a statement, for all time, about the force of this nation's spirit of invention. Even while the country was divided by Vietnam, and shaken by riots, everyone could gather around the space effort. Was there ever a greater unifying American moment?

The last men walked on the moon in December of 1972. By that time, Americans had grown blase about what seemed impossible just a decade before. Those astronauts were Eugene Cernan and Harrison Schmitt, for the record. From 1975 until 1981, America put no one in orbit.

Since then, the only manned space missions to captivate the nation were the disasters: the Challenger liftoff and the Columbia disintegration.

We pretend a communication network like Twitter is a technological breakthrough when 40 years ago we transmitted live pictures and audio from the moon. New technology is communications and entertainment gadgetry -- the business of diversion. E-mails, voicemails, movies in cars, videos on phones. Ringtones and games. High-def TV.

When did we become so frivolous?

We're stuck in political inertia on things like renewable energy sources since the first oil embargo. That too was nearly 40 years ago. The country that put a man on the moon can't figure out how to better power our nation's cars.

During his campaign, President Obama echoed that sentiment many times. Surely, the country that put a man on the moon can figure out a way to provide health care for all Americans.

He wasn't the first. It is part of the American mantra of frustration when simple things no longer work, when simple problems can no longer be solved. And that's what the 40th anniversary of the landing on the moon should make us think about. And hope for a day when we no longer say: